


A Cinderella Story

by fanetjuh



Series: Jonsa Week [46]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17123405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanetjuh/pseuds/fanetjuh
Summary: When Sansa went to the royal ball, just to see where her parents had met, she couldn't have thought that Jon Snow, crown prince of England would fall in love with her, and she with him. But he is a prince and she's a simple waitress. This will never work out for them, right?*slightly based on the movie A Cinderella Story*





	A Cinderella Story

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Game of Thrones Secret Santa (pinch hitting)

“Sansa!” Ramsay’s voice echoed through the kitchen. “Where are you?” His heavy footsteps filled the loaded air and Sansa straightened her back and lifted her chin. 

“Here…” She closed the oven and wiped her red hair from her face. Her apron was covered in flour and sugar and soaked in water and milk. To hide her black eye she was wearing her sunglasses. It was also because of the black eye that she was now working in the kitchen instead of in the restaurant.

“Myranda went home ill. We need your help.” 

“Me?” Sansa cocked her head. “Right now?” She raised her eyebrows, even though Ramsay wouldn’t be able to see that. “I look like shit!”

“You always do, honey.” Ramsay grabbed her wrist and his nails pierced her delicate pale skin. “That’s why you’re a waitress and not a model.” He smiled. “You can take table four. He’s wearing sunglasses too. You’ll simply look like a kindred soul to him.” He pulled Sansa to the door and there he placed a hand on her behind to push her into the restaurant. “Go on. Be sweet and nice.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. She was tired of being sweet and nice. Tired of being touched by his dirty hands in places where no one should touch her. She was even more tired of seeing the restaurant that had once belonged to her father and older brother wither away. And there was nothing she could do about it.

“What can I get you?” Sansa smiled at the lonely boy, wearing a hat and a pair of sunglasses.

He had not even bothered to take off his winter jacket. 

“The soup of the day is tomato soup. But I’d not advice that. The tomatoes were already rotten when they arrived.”

The boy looked up and his lips curled up into a slight smile. “I just need a coffee.”

Sansa’s heart skipped a beat in her chest and all her muscles froze. She knew that voice. 

What was he doing here? Had he figured it out? Had he discovered that she was the mystery princess he had been looking for? But he should have stopped that search! He was engaged now. Engaged to a beautiful young princess with white hair that reached her lower back even when it was braided in a complicated pattern.

“We have cappuccino, latte, decaf and fair trade.” Although the last one was no longer fair trade. Nothing Ramsay Bolton did was fair. Sansa’s voice trembled a little and she tried to steady her hand. 

“Everything but the decaf.” Prince Jon smiled and Sansa felt a shiver rolling down her spine. 

“I'll get you a latte then.” She turned around and rushed to the coffee machine to give her restless hands something to do. She tried to focus om her breathing. In and out. In and out. But her heart kept on racing in her chest and the adrenaline rushed through her veins.

Three weeks ago she had been dancing in his arms at the royal ball. For the first time in a very long while she had smiled and meant it. And for the first time in a very long while she had felt pretty and beautiful. Of course, she had not planned to dance with the prince. She had for sure not planned to dance and talk with him all evening. And she had most of all not planned to fall in love with him, even though there was no chance of them ever ending up together.

He was a prince. She was a simple waitress. 

When she had come home and Ramsay had figured out that their cook Brienne had gotten her the dress, tiara, make up and most of all the invitation, he had been more furious that she had ever seen him before. And even though most of the wounds were healed right now, he had hit her once more every time the poor prince had mentioned her on national television.

But even if she had gotten only that one night, that one night of pleasure, of being beautiful, of being talked to, of being loved, it had been worth it.

With the latte in her trembling hands she walked back to table four. “Here you go.” She placed the full mug in front of the young prince and she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Can I get you anything else?”

The prince didn’t answer, but instead he put the spoon in his mug and stirred endlessly. “Do you ever have the feeling that you’re forced to be someone you’re not?” He didn’t give her the chance to answer. “That someone else determines what you eat and what you drink and when you sleep and when you smile?”

Sansa looked over her shoulder to make sure no one could hear her and then she nodded. “All the time.” She curled her fingers around the seat in front of her. “And sometimes I want to run away to a place where no one knows me, but somehow my feet always carry me back home.”

“Exactly.” Jon nodded. “They want me to marry someone I don’t even love.” He sighed. “And they want me to give up on the girl I did fall in love with, but who didn’t give me the chance to get to know her better because she ran away.”

Sansa shrugged. “Isn't it sometimes better to not know who someone really is? To keep that image of perfection? To keep that dream alive, instead of it being shattered by reality?”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows, but then he shook his head. “I don’t care who she is.” His voice sounded harsh. “Everyone wants me to marry a princess. I just want someone to love me and understand me. Even if she’s a wanted criminal, I’d still prefer her by my side.”

This was her chance. This was her chance to take off her sunglasses and tell her who she was. This was her chance to tell him that she wanted to get to know him better too. This was her chance to admit that she had been afraid to come forward because he was a prince and she was just her.

She lifted her hand up and touched her glasses, but just when she was about to take them off and show herself, two bodyguards rushed into the restaurant and pushed her aside. 

“Thank God, your highness. We’ve found you.” 

“You have to come with us right now. We haven’t secured this place."

Jon let out a deep sigh and he stood up while he placed way too much money on the table. “Keep the change. Thanks for listening.” Reluctantly he allowed the bodyguards to lead him out of the restaurant and Sansa stared after him, realizing that her only chance to admit that she was the mystery princess was gone now.

 

“Good evening England.” 

Sansa laid on her bed with a cup of tea on her nightstand and a book in her hands. Her feet hurt after standing and walking all day and she could barely keep her eyes open. 

“After weeks of silence and the announcement of the royal engagement, the search for the mystery princess has been stopped. But today a brave young man stepped forward and told us all about the girl that didn’t want to be found.”

Sansa looked up and she stopped breathing when she saw the smiling face of Ramsay Bolton on her screen. She should have known that eventually he’d realize that this story was worth loads and loads of money. She should have known that he’d sell it to the highest bidder. And she should have known that he’d not make her look pretty.

“I’m afraid that the mystery princess we’ve all been looking for is nothing but a fraud.” He spoke firmly and the screen showed a not so flattering picture of her. “Yesterday I discovered that one of my waitresses, Sansa Stark, hid something that was worth much more than her paycheck would ever allow.” He held up her tiara and the silver glittery slippers. “She must have stolen it. Just like she corrupted one of my cooks, who was asked to do the catering of the ball, to sneak her into the event of the year.” 

Sansa realized that tears were rolling down her cheeks when drops of salted water fell on the pages of her book. Quickly she tried to wipe them away, but the tears kept on escaping her eyes and eventually she fell down on her back, the television still playing in the background.

“I can only guess what she wanted to do with the prince. And we can only be glad for whatever chased her away.”

He. He had chased her away. His curfew had chased her away. The fear of being discovered had chased her away.

And it had all been for nothing. 

Everything she had ever done had all been for nothing. She should have gotten away from here long ago already. She should have let go of the dream that one day this nightmare would be over. She should have known that Ramsay Bolton wouldn’t keep his word. She would never get the restaurant that was rightfully hers.

She grabbed the few things that belonged to her she actually cared about and put them in a small suitcase. On the tips of her toes she walked down the stairs, past the living room where Ramsay was probably watching his own face, past the kitchen where Brienne was finishing up to go home.And eventually past the half sleeping guard who was supposed to keep an eye on the front door.

She had thought that leaving her childhood home behind would be the hardest thing she’d ever do, but somehow it felt like a heavy weight was lifted from her shoulders. Maybe it was the fresh air blowing in her face. Maybe it were the millions of stars winking at her. Maybe it was the promise that no matter what would happen now, it would always be better than whatever she left behind.

Every mile her steps felt lighter and every hour her smile grew brighter. 

She was free. She was finally free. She was free to go where she wanted to go. And she was free to be who she wanted to be.

“Sansa?”

She felt a shoulder brushing hers and stood still. For a moment she was afraid that Ramsay had found her, that he would take her back to a place that had once been her home, but was now nothing but a personal hell. Then she noticed the handsome young man, this time without the sunglasses and the hat, surrounded by four bodyguards not even bothering to take their distance. “Prince Jon…” She whispered. "What are you doing here at this time of the day? Shouldn’t you be safely behind the castle walls, hiding for the mosquitos of the press and monsters like me?”

“It was you I talked to this afternoon, wasn’t it?” He interrupted her. “You were the waitress with the latte, understanding me.”

Sansa hesitated for a moment, but then she nodded. “I swear, I never wanted to hurt or harm you. It was never my plan to even get close to you. I just wanted to go to that ball, wanted to see it. My mother…” Sansa swallowed. “She met my father there. I just wanted to see it.”

Jon reached for her hand and entwined his fingers with hers. It was a small movement, but in a way it was comforting and pleasant. He wasn’t judging her. He wasn’t running away from her.

Even though she had a black eye. Even though her hair was a mess. Even though her life was a disaster.

“I didn’t want to cause any problems.”

“You didn’t.” Jon shook his head. “You really didn’t.” He pulled her closer towards him. “You're the best thing that happened to me in years. I don’t care what my parents want. I don’t care what the people think. You, and what I feel for you, is the realest I’ve ever felt.” He stuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “What would you think of accusing Ramsay Bolton of slander against the girlfriend of the crown prince from England? What would you think of accusing him of abusing an honorable maiden?”

Sansa leaned back, but then a smile spread across her face. “Will he get in jail for it?”

“No, men like him somehow always escape jail. But only if he pays you a lot of money.”

Sansa’s smiled brightened. “I know something better. Something I want more.”

“I'm sure you can talk to his lawyers about that.” Jon spoke softly and then he furrowed his eyebrows because he noticed the suitcase she was holding. “Where were you going at this unholy hour?”

Sansa shrugged. “I don’t know.” She placed her suitcase on the ground and pressed the palm of her hand to Jon’s chest. “Away from where I was. Finally.”

Jon pressed his forehead to hers. “Is with me far away enough?”

Sansa swallowed and her nose brushed his. “I think it can be.” She pressed her soft lips on his mouth and his arms slipped around her waist while he eagerly kissed her back.

And for a moment it didn’t matter that there were four bodyguards watching them. That his parents wouldn’t welcome her with wide open arms. That there was a fiancee who wasn’t one anymore now. That the entire country thought she was a criminal corrupting their prince.

They would overcome all that somehow. And after that, they would live happily ever after.


End file.
